


Wincest Christmas Fics and Drabbles

by ilovejared



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e08 A Very Supernatural Christmas, Fix-It, Holidays, Loss of Virginity, M/M, New Year's Eve, Sam is 17, Schmoop, Season 3, Season 8, Virgin Sam Winchester, Weecest Sort Of, Wincest - Freeform, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 06:44:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17017716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovejared/pseuds/ilovejared
Summary: A collection of Holiday fics that I have written collected in one place. I hope to add more to this soon!





	1. The One Less Traveled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam decides to give Dean the only thing he has to give. Himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written a few years ago for a Wincest Secret Santa Exchange on tumblr. She wanted smut and that's what this is with, of course, angst and fluff thrown in for good measure!

Christmas Eve had started out clear and bitter cold. The thin sunlight providing no warmth and, as the day went on, even those meager rays were obscured by thick gray clouds, heavy with snow.

Sam watched the gathering storm from inside the small efficiency apartment Dad had rented back in August. It was Sam’s senior year in high school, so his father had conceded to his wish to remain in one place this school year. It had been lonely at times because Dean and Dad had been on several hunts but that was changing

A second concession had been made. Dean was going to spend the remainder of the school year with Sam. His brother had a job lined up at a local garage to help with necessities and Dad would come home when he could.

To make things even better, Dad had called last night and told Sam that his brother would be on his way home tomorrow so that the brothers would be together at Christmas. Sam had tried to keep the excitement out of his voice as he talked to his father.

“I’m sorry I won’t be coming home with Dean, son, but Bobby and I are going north on a hunt. I know you understand, Sam.”

Of course, he understood. Lives were at stake and that always took precedence over everything.

“It’s fine, Dad. Really.” Sam paused. The thing was, he really was fine with it. He loved his Dad but their relationship had changed over the past few years and not for the better.

And he would have Dean to himself.

“You and Bobby be careful, Dad. And Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Sam.” John cleared his throat and, for a moment, Sam thought his father was going to say something else but, instead, he heard muffled laughter and then an excited voice in his ear.

“Sammy! You miss me little brother?” Dean’s voice took on that special tone that he reserved for Sam alone. The one that sent shivers down Sam’s spine.

Closing his eyes, Sam took a deep breath before answering. “Nah. It’s nice to not to have to fight you for the shower.”

He was proud of how casual he sounded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon”, Dean laughed. “Save me some hot water, bitch.”

“Drive careful, jerk.” Sam broke the connection and took a deep breath.

It would be just him and Dean. Not that it hadn’t been just them before but things were different now.

Or at least he hoped they would be.

The wind was picking up and snowflakes were beginning to fall, thick and fast. They swooped and swirled through the air in a dizzying pattern, mirroring Sam’s own emotional turmoil that had been brewing for months.

Oh be honest, Sam thought to himself. He had been building up to this moment for years.

He had begun the day in a bustle of activity. When Dad and Dean had left right after Thanksgiving, John had prepaid the rent and utilities and had left Sam with a credit card to purchase groceries and essentials. Sam knew how to stretch money but what Dad had given him left nothing for extras. Like Christmas decorations.

Sam was smart and the jocks at Carson City High School knew it. Sam had picked up some extra cash writing term papers for a few of the football players who didn’t want to lose their chance to take the field in the playoffs.

It was this money that Sam took into town with him on Christmas Eve morning. His first stop was a tree lot where he purchased a small Christmas tree with with his carefully hoarded earnings. On to the dollar store, where he was able to purchase lights and a few ornaments to decorate with.

At the grocery store, he purchased a full deli dinner that included rotisserie chicken, mashed potatoes and the piece de resistance, a fresh-baked apple pie.

He wanted to give Dean a Christmas with all the trimmings. He had only a few dollars left after he was done at the local FoodMart. That was okay because he wasn’t planning on buying Dean a gift.

Sam was planning, instead, to offer himself to his brother. His body, his heart, all that he had.

He sighed as he looked at the Christmas tree, decorated with twinkling lights and colorful ornaments. It lent the sparse room a warm glow. He hoped that Dean would accept the gift Sam was offering.

It was everything Sam had to give. The only thing that he truly owned was himself. And he had saved himself for Dean.

He had been thirteen, gasping awake with his brother’s name on his lips, pleasure flooding his body and he had realized that he wanted, he needed, his older brother in ways that he shouldn’t.

Shame had been fleeting, though. What about the Winchester’s life could be termed normal?

Over the last four years, he had learned to live with his secret. No matter how much he ached to kiss, to touch, to take. These were the things he allowed himself to do only in his dreams, whether waking or while he slept.

He knew he could never let Dean know how he felt. Dean was his big brother, his protector and he knew Dean loved him fiercely. But Dean was not in love with his little brother.

That was Sam’s cross to bear. And he would be able to bear it as long as Dean was part of his life.

Surely, the Dean Winchester who loved to relate tales of his sexual prowess with a multitude of willing females to his little brother would be horrified to learn that same little brother relived those stories later. In his bed, sometimes with Dean not three feet away, Sam imagined his big brother doing all manner of erotic acts with him, to him, and would bite the inside of his cheek bloody in an effort to stifle his moans as he came, hot and wet over his own hand.

But in the last few months, there had been signs that maybe, just maybe, Dean might not be as horrified as Sam had originally thought.

And, there had been signs that, perhaps, time could be Sam’s greatest enemy.

During the summer months, the Winchester men hunted together. This past summer, all it took for Sam’s world to fall apart was a Wendigo, a jammed flare gun and Dean lying bloody and still on the forest floor. Sam had screamed Dean’s name as he rushed at the Wendigo that had injured his brother. His flare gun found it’s mark and John had found Sam carrying Dean in his arms as tears streaked down his face.

In the time it had taken for Dean to recover, Sam had not left his side. Dean had become tired of his hovering but Sam didn’t care. The injuries had been bad enough for John to drive at a ridiculously high speed to the local hospital and, on some level, Dean understood that Sam needed to be close to him. He needed to be able to see for himself, that Dean was alive and well. That he hadn’t lost him.

Finally, Dean had yelled at him to go take a shower or something so he could he get a few minutes of peace. The harsh words had been softened with a tired smile and Dean had squeezed Sam’s hand lightly.

“Come on, Sammy. You need to get some rest. You look worse than I do.”

It had taken all of Sam’s will power to not bring Dean’s hand to his lips, to not breathe out everything he felt in a rush of emotion.

Sam had decided one thing, though. He needed to find some way to tell Dean he was in love with him before he lost the chance to do so.

Still, he had been afraid of how Dean would react. So he started to pay close attention to how Dean responded to certain situations. His big brother no longer hugged him close as he had when he was younger. When Sam tried to wrap himself around him, Dean would push him away with a laugh and a manly slap on the shoulder. He had noticed Dean watching him a little closer, especially when he walked through the room in just his boxers or in a towel after a shower. Maybe, Dean was noticing that Sam was adding some muscle to his long limbs. That, at seventeen, Sam had was taller than his big brother. That he wasn’t quite as gangly and awkward as he used to be. Or maybe, it was all a product of wishful thinking.

Except, Sam didn’t think it was because of what he thought of as “The Incident.”

It had happened a few weeks ago, right before Dean and Dad had left on his latest hunt. Sam had been unable to sleep. He had turned on his side and faced his brother who was sleeping in the opposite bed. He lay there several moments, eyes adjusting to the meager light and he realized that Dean wasn’t asleep.

He was jerking off.

Sam had felt his own cock stiffen as he watched Dean’s hand move inside his boxers. He could see Dean bite at his bottom lip as he stroked himself fast and rough.

Biting his own lip as he palmed at his hard dick, Sam thought he might come just by listening to the breathy whimpers that Dean was making. A few more rough pulls and Dean gasped.

“Ah god….Sam….Sammy…..”

Hearing his brother choke out his name as he came was all it took for Sam to reach his own orgasm almost untouched.

Sam lay still while Dean removed his boxers using them to wipe his hand and stomach clean. Then, he listened as his brothers ragged breathing evened out into slumber.

Over the next few weeks, Sam replayed that moment over and over in his mind. What he had heard had not been the result of wishful thinking or a dream.

Dean had been jerking off while thinking of Sam.

Even now, sitting in the light of the Christmas tree, waiting for Dean to come home to him, thinking about those four words was enough to make Sam hard as a rock.

Ah god……Sam……Sammy

For the last four years, he had convinced himself that he would spend the rest of his life loving his brother, wanting his brother, but never being able to have him.

It was funny how things worked out sometimes.

Two days later, his father and brother had left and Sam had been left to ponder the working of the universe in regards to incestuous relationships between brothers.

Even the Intro to Poetry paper he had been finishing for the school’s star running back had made him think that maybe it was time for him to take a chance.

It was time to take the road less traveled by.

Headlights cut through the falling snow to shine in the small picture window where Sam sat. He watched as Dean climbed out of the impala, grabbed a six-pack of beer from the back seat along with his duffel, and stomped his way to the front door.

Then, his big brother was there, right in front of him, laughing and smiling, and, as always, larger than life.

“Heya, Sammy!” His green eyes widened with delight as took in the decorated Christmas tree. “You got us a Christmas tree? Awesome! Where’d you get the money?” Dean looked at his little brother speculatively. “By-the- book Sammy Winchester didn’t steal it, did you?”

“No! Of course not, Dean!” Sam exclaimed, feigning exasperation. “I have money.”

Dean dropped is duffel on the floor, holding out one hand, palm out, in Sam’s direction. “Okay, okay. I believe you.” He looked sideways at Sam, lips curled in a cocky grin that made Sam’s heart beat faster. “Don’t throw one of your bitch fits.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam stifled the urge to blurt out everything right then and there. Instead, he walked over and wrapped his arms around Dean, not caring that this was something they hardly did any more. He felt Dean stiffen slightly as he pulled him tight, then felt his brother relax and wrap one arm around his shoulders.

They stood that way for a moment, then Dean patted Sam’s back lightly. Clearing his throat, he walked to the kitchen. “You feelin’ okay, Sammy?”

Before Sam could answer, Dean opened the little refrigerator to dispense with the six-pack in his hand.

“Whoa, Sammy! Christmas dinner?” He bent over to get a better look. In a reverent tone, he asked, “Is that apple pie?”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, jerk, and it’s all for you. Merry Christmas.”

Closing the door to the fridge, Dean turned to look at Sam and, this time, his eyes were soft. “Merry Christmas, little brother.” He looked down at his hands. “But I didn’t have time to get you anything.”

You’re here, Dean. You’re all I need.

Instead of speaking his heart, Sam smiled, dimples flashing. “Hey, the pie may be all yours but I’m eating my fill of Christmas dinner.”

Dean brightened visibly. “Yeah, okay.” Sam blushed as Dean’s eyes traveled over him. “You been eating, right? Doing your workouts?”

“Yes, Dean. Why?”

He didn’t answer for a minute, his eyes taking in his little brother’s too tight t-shirt that was just a shade too short, worn jeans that clung to his thighs like a glove and his bare feet.

Shrugging, he turned away, making it hard for Sam to hear his words.

“You’re looking good, Sammy. Gonna take a shower.”

Sam followed Dean into the one bedroom. He stood looking at the closed bathroom door, listening to the sounds of the shower spray. He wasn’t sure what to make of Dean’s comments but he took them as another sign. A good one.

While Dean finished showering, Sam retrieved the other supplies he had purchased, placing them at strategic points around the small bedroom.

Dean emerged from his shower in a swirl of steam. His skin was flushed with heat and slick with moisture. A thin towel was tied around his waist emphasizing his lean, muscled torso. He looked up from shaking his hair free of water droplets and his mouth dropped open.

The only light in the cramped bedroom was from the ten or so white candles Sam had placed on every surface. Their light illuminated the double bed, comforter and white sheets neatly folded down, and Sam.

Dean struggled to comprehend the scene in front of him. Sam, his little brother, lay propped on his elbows, long legs spread open emphasizing the bulge(fucking christ) that lay between them.

He had removed his shirt and Dean could tell that Sam had, in fact, been working out. His head was thrown back, exposing the line of his throat and the long hair that Dad was always bitching at him to cut almost brushed his shoulders.

Finally, Dean found his voice. “Sammy? What is-” His voice trailed off as Sam opened his eyes. In their depths, he saw something that he wasn’t prepared to acknowledge just yet.

He had never noticed how beautiful his little brother’s eyes were. Why hadn’t he noticed?

Dean did notice the open bottle of Jack Daniels on the beside table that was next to-

Holy fucking hell, was that lube?

Clearing his throat, Dean tried again. “Sam, you want to tell me what is going on?”

Standing up, Sam advanced on his brother who backed up until he was against the wall. Dean had to look up to his little brother and Sam smiled.

“This is your Christmas present, Dean.” All of a sudden, Sam looked unsure of himself, like he was steeling himself for rejection. “If you want it, I mean me.”

“Jesus, Sam”, Dean breathed. He reached out and brushed at the bangs that had fallen in Sam’s eyes. “Give me a minute to catch up.”

Sam had other ideas, though. He didn’t want to give Dean time to think of all the reasons of why they couldn’t or why they shouldn’t. So he did something he had dreamed about for years. He kissed Dean.

At first, it was awkward. Neither had kissed another man before and Sam, had kissed a few girls, but not many. So he did what he had imagined doing if he ever got the chance to kiss his brother.

He concentrated on the feel of Dean’s lips. The taste of them. Dean tasted of beer and mint and something he couldn’t put a name to. His lips, while a bit rough, were as lush as any of the girls he had kissed. Sam drew back after a moment to look at Dean whose eyes were still closed.

He hadn’t pushed Sam away but he hadn’t responded either. Then his eyes opened and Sam saw a myriad of emotions reflected in his brothers emerald eyes.

Confusion, fright, love and lust. It was these last two that had Sam leaning down to close his lips over Dean’s again.

This time was different. Sam was more confident and his arms pulled Dean closer. He moved his lips over his brothers, content to have his brother in his arms and almost overwhelmed with the feel of those lips that had haunted his dreams. His tongue traced the seam of Dean’s lips and, after a moment they parted under his and Sam’s world tilted on it’s axis.

He whimpered as Dean took charge of the kiss, tilting his head and slanting his lips across Sam’s. He wanted to hear that sound again, that choked little sob that Sam had made when Dean had parted his lips and slid his tongue along his little brothers. Dean’s hands found their way to Sam’s hair and they entangled themselves there as Dean drank his fill of what his brother was offering. And those soft little whimpers continued to be punched out of Sam as Dean used tongue and teeth to communicate all of the want, the need, that he had buried deep inside himself, never thinking it would ever see the light of day.

The towel had slid to the floor and Sam could feel his brother’s hard length pressed against his own, separated by one layer of soft denim. He needed to see it, to feel it, to taste it. So he broke the kiss and dropped to his knees in front of his brother, startling a gasp from Dean.

“Sammy.” He looked down at his little brother who was gazing up at him with something akin to worship. His gorgeous little brother, lips plumped and wet from his kisses, and those fox eyes of his never left Dean’s as he closed those sinful lips around the head of Dean’s cock.

Sam had never done this before, had been on the receiving end a couple of times, but he had sucked his brother’s cock a thousand times in his fantasies. It was a bit clumsy at first. Dean was thicker than he had imagined and he gagged a couple of times trying to take too much at once.

“You don’t have to, Sammy”, Dean choked out.

“Want to”,Sam murmured, pulling off for a brief moment before taking Dean into his mouth once again. He found a rhythm, one hand curled around the base as he bobbed his head slowly, swirling his tongue along the shaft, around the head.

Dean’s hands found his hair, brushing at his bangs that fell across his eyes as sucked and lapped at his big brother’s dick. Dean had imagined this scenario too many times to count but the reality was so much sweeter.

His hands tugged at Sam’s hair, gently, “This is going to end right here if you don’t stop.”

Sam kissed the pale skin along the top of Dean’s leg. “You have freckles everywhere. Some day I want to kiss every single one.”

“Fuck, Sammy”, Dean growled, “come here.” Sam rose and Dean pulled him close, kissing him fiercely. “How long, Sammy? How long have you wanted this?”

“Since forever”, Sam whispered against his mouth.

“I thought it was just me”, Dean murmured between kisses. “I never dreamed…..” His hands fumbled with the buttons of Sam’s jeans, pushing them down over slim hips and thighs and somehow they ended up in a heap on the other side of the room. Dean cursed when he realized Sam was bare beneath his jeans

“Bed. Now.” Dean needed to see every inch of his little brother. Needed to sample all of that pale skin.

Sam lay back and blushed when he realized that Dean wasn’t ready to join him on the bed quite yet. Instead, his brother’s heated gaze was taking in every inch of Sam’s naked body.

With one finger, Dean reached out to trace the shape of Sam’s lips then continued down the elegant line of his throat, around the dark peak of one nipple then the other. He flicked each with his thumb causing Sam to arch into his brother’s touch.

Dean licked his lips, taking in Sam’s reaction. He drew his finger lightly across Sam’s stomach, circling lower and lower, until he traced the line of fine dark hair, while Sam’s breath came in gasps and his hips jerked involuntarily seeking friction for his aching cock.

Finally, Dean trailed the tip of is finger down Sam’s length, around his balls and to the soft skin behind them. When he closed his hand around Sam’s dick, stroking lightly, Sam’s eyes fluttered close, his hands dug into the sheet, while he babbled incoherently.

“DeanpleaseomgDeanIneedyouneedyouDean…”

He laid down beside Sam, and Sam sought his mouth hungrily, biting and licking his way inside Dean’s mouth. A little sound of disappointment escaped him when Dean brought his hand up to cup chin, but then he pressed his body against Sam’s so that their cocks lined up and the friction was delicious, almost too much to bear and not enough at the same time and he needed, god, he needed…

Dean’s lips trailed down that long expanse of throat, kissing softly at the pulse that beat wildly, then nipping lightly at the skin so that Sam cried out at the pain and the pleasure of it.

“You’re so beautiful, Sam. My beautiful little brother.”

Sam shivered at the words, never realizing how much he needed to hear them.

“Tell me what you want, Sammy”, Dean murmured against his throat. He continued to lavish Sam’s neck with kisses, sucking a bruise on the white skin, delighting in the sounds he was able to draw out of his little brother.

“Want you to fuck me, Dean. Please. I need you to fuck me”, Sam gasped.

Dean rolled Sam underneath him so that he could look into his eyes. He brushed a few tendrils of sweaty hair from Sam’s cheek, before gently kissing him.

“Are you sure, Sammy?” At Sam’s vigorous nod, Dean smiled. “I mean, have you ever…you know, with a guy?”

Sam blushed prettily, which Dean found totally intoxicating. He could feel his little brother’s huge, hard dick still pressed against his and Sam’s gorgeous cock-sucking lips were swollen and wet but he could still blush.

“I’ve never…you know”, Sam stammered, “with anyone.”

Dean drew back in surprise. “Sam, are you telling me you’re a virgin?”

“I didn’t want to have sex with anyone but you, Dean.” His words became a whisper. “Because I’m yours.”

“God, Sam.” He didn’t know what to say so he kissed him, pouring all of his love into that simple act.

When their lips parted, Sam was trembling and Dean asked, “Are you cold, baby?”

At the endearment, Sam smiled then said softly, “No.”

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, Sammy.” His hands roamed over Sam’s body, lingering on his hip, then alongside the inside of his thighs. Dean bent to take one of Sam’s nipples in his mouth, tugging and teasing until it was stiff, He flicked his tongue over it lightly before nipping playfully with his teeth. He kissed his way down Sam’s body while his hand tugged at the soft hair that curled at the base of his cock, then over his balls, rolling each one gently before sliding further back to tease at the tight pucker of flesh.

All the while, Sam writhed and moaned and pleaded. When he felt Dean’s finger teasing lightly at his hole, he bucked his hips trying to force it inside him. He needed Dean inside him. Now.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Sammy. We have to go slow, okay?”

Sam couldn’t think, couldn’t reason at this point. His whole body trembled with want and he grabbed Dean’s neck, pulling his mouth to his so he could taste him, murmuring against his mouth, “Please, Dean, please.”

Dean pulled away for a moment then Sam felt his finger again teasing the outside of his hole. This time it was slick with lube and he tensed as it slid inside him.

It burned a little but, true to his word, Dean went slow, working just that one digit in and out, going a little further each time, until the burn was gone and he felt the first tendrils of pleasure.

By the time Dean had three fingers inside him, Sam had become used to the burn, the stretch. His big brother continued to kiss him, moving his lips from Sam’s mouth to his ear where he whispered how beautiful Sam was, how good he felt inside, so tight and warm.

Sam clutched at his brother’s bicep, feeling the muscles flex as his fingers opened him up. He wanted to feel the muscles of Dean’s back move as he fucked him. Wanted to look in those green eyes, to see the pleasure he would give Dean.

“Please, I’m ready, Please”, Sam begged.

“Okay, baby”, Dean was breathless himself, watching Sam lose himself on just his his fingers. His little brother was needy and noisy and Dean loved it.

“Lift your hips.” Sam complied and he slid a pillow underneath them. He pulled his legs open, hands on his knees as he watched Dean slick up his cock. He felt so open, exposed, but the look on Dean’s face as he looked at Sam’s well-prepped hole and weeping cock set him to trembling again.

“You’re mine, Sammy, right? That’s what you told me.” Dean pressed the head of his cock against Sam’s hole, rubbing back and forth, teasing but going no further.

Thrashing his head from side to side, Sam moaned, “Yes..god, yes.”

“Say it, Sammy. Tell me again you’re mine.”

“Yours, Dean. Only yours. Always.”

As Sam spoke, Dean pushed in with a gasp of his own as he was surrounded by Sam, soft and tight and hot. He held himself from just fucking into his little brother hard and fast like he wanted. Instead, he went inch by inch, slowly working his cock deeper and deeper.

Sam dropped his legs on either side of Dean’s hips, clutching at his brother’s shoulders as felt himself being filled with Dean, surrounded by Dean, inside and out. He felt so full, so complete, and as the initial pain gave way to the first sparks of pleasure, he began to move his hips, meeting Dean’s shallow thrusts until his brother’s balls brushed against his ass.

He stroked Dean’s back, the tensed muscles, over the globes of his ass and back again. Sam could feel that Dean was holding back, allowing him to adjust to the stretch. He reached up to bring Dean’s lips down to his, brushing their mouths together.

Looking into Dean’s eyes, he whispered, “Fuck me, Dean. Make me yours.”

Dean crashed his mouth into Sam’s, stifling his moans as he began to set a rhythm, pulling out until just the tip of his cock was inside Sam before plunging back in. Sam moved with him, his body instinctive in it’s response to his big brother.

Sam gasped as Dean rose up on his knees, pushing one of Sam’s legs back so he could see where their bodies were joined. The change in position caused Sam to cry out as Dean stroked over his prostate. He was almost sobbing with pleasure and when Dean began to stroke his cock in time with his thrusts, Sam thought he might pass out from the intensity of the sensation.

Dean could tell that Sam was close and he fucked him deep and hard, making sure to hit his prostate with every pass. If Dean had thought Sam was beautiful before, the sight of him coming, back bowing off the bed, pink mouth open, cock spurting across Dean’s hand was beyond gorgeous.

He would have bruises where Sam’s fingers dug into his shoulders as he fucked him through his orgasm. Dropping Sam’s leg, Dean folded himself around his little brother, hands tangled in those silky strands and drove into his brother’s body. Sam was wrapped around him, legs around his waist, arms around his shoulders and his tight hole clenched around Dean’s cock. He was still hyper-sensitized from his own orgasm, but he worked his muscles around his brother’s dick and then Dean was tensing and he could feel Dean filling him with his come.

“Sam…fuck….Sammy.” He shuddered uncontrollably, then found his found his little brother’s mouth, whispering, “My Sammy”, between long kisses.

They clutched each other, sweaty and sated. Dean pulled out with a groan and Sam sighed at the feeling of emptiness.

Chuckling, Dean pulled Sam to his chest, brushing sweaty tendrils from his forehead. “We should clean up.”

“Not yet”, Sam whispered, placing a kiss on Dean’s nipple. He shivered at the feel of Sam’s lips and Dean hugged him closer.

Sam didn’t mind the feel of come leaking out of him. It was a part of Dean. A reminder of what if felt like to have Dean inside of him.

“You okay, Sammy?”

“Perfect. Uh, Dean?” Sam asked shyly. “Was I, you know….um, okay?

“No.” At Sam’s crestfallen face, he hurriedly finished. “You were amazing.”

Sam grinned at that. “I want to do everything with you, Dean.” Smiled seductively, he continued, “And I mean everything.”

“I can get on board with that”, Dean breathed. “I have to say that this is the best Christmas ever.”

Snuggling close to his brother, Sam said, “And it’s going to be an awesome new year.”

Sam listened to Dean’s breathing even out as he drifted off to sleep. He listened to the wind whistling around the eaves and for the first time in a long time, he felt happy.

His own eyes began to droop and as he began to doze, safe and complete in his big brother’s arms, his mind went to the lines of the poem he had written a paper about so he could have money for Christmas. He remembered reading the lines that made him realize he needed to take a chance. On his brother. On love.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence;

Two roads diverged in a wood and, I-

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

(The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost)


	2. Home For Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a Wincest Christmas Fic Contest.  
> The prompt was to write a Season 8 fix-it fic. This was the result.

The snow was falling harder. The flakes were being driven now instead of falling soft and slow like they had for most of the drive. The wind blew fiercely, whipping around the Impala making it shake and shimmy on the slick highway. It had started several hours ago and Dean had hoped it would hold off until they made it to Rufus’s cabin. Now as he turned the Impala up the narrow trail that lead to the cabin, it looked like the world lay under an ever shifting mantle of white. Even the trees were wearing their wintry white cloaks.

Dean was really too nervous to notice the beauty of the countryside. He glanced at Sam, passed out in the passenger seat for the last few hours after driving the first half of their journey. He’d woken up only once, rubbing his eyes and looking like a giant 4-year-old. He’d asked where they were and Dean had told him they had about three more hours to go. Sam had nodded and stared out the window, looking but not seeing the scenery rushing by. Dean had wondered what he was thinking about. If he was thinking about Amelia. Then he’d turned and gave Dean a half-hearted smile before rearranging his long form in the seat and falling asleep once again. Now he looked peaceful. Nothing like the man who less than two hours ago had let Dean know just how extremely pissed he was. His little brother had learned at an early age that he just had to turn those soulful eyes of his on Dean and he could get pretty much anything he wanted. Dean had always called them puppy eyes. Sam hadn’t greeted him with soft, pleading eyes this time. He had been like an angry Rottweiler. Or Doberman. All hard edges and sharp words. 

It had taken all of his powers of persuasion to get Sam to come with him. Hell, it taken everything he had just to get Sam to open the motel room door.

Less than a week after Sam had hung up on Dean, he had tracked Sam to the motel where he had holed up. He had taken comfort in the fact that some part of Sam must have wanted to be found because if he hadn’t, Dean would probably still be looking.

Sam had opened the door when Dean knocked, took one look and shut the door in Dean’s face. He had seen Sam’s face go from placidly expectant to grimly dangerous.

He rapped on the door one more time. “Come on, Sam. Open up.”

Dean’s stomach felt like he had swallowed knives. It felt worse than when he had got food poisoning from that taco stand in Arkansas. The look in Sam’s eyes when he’d opened the door and saw it was his brother made Dean’s stomach twist further. It had been filled with….anger, yes, but with something more than that. Disappointment. That’s what he had seen in Sam’s eyes. Christ.

He wished he was psychic so he could figure out what Sam was thinking. 

Whatever it was, he deserved it. He’d really fucked up this time. But good.

“Sam, come on. I just want to talk.” He lowered his voice, glancing around the parking lot. “Let me in, Sam, before someone thinks we’re having a lover’s quarrel or something.”

That was funny really because there was no one, not even another car, in the deserted lot. Dean also wondered at his choice of words. Had Sam noticed? 

He leaned his forehead against the cold steel. “Sam. I feel like an idiot out here.” 

“You are an idiot,” Sam shouted derisively. “I don’t want to talk, Dean. Not now.”

“Five minutes, Sam. Then if you want me to leave, I’ll go.”

Dean held his breath because he might sound nonchalant but his heart was in his throat. What if Sam told him to leave? What would he do then?

Just when Dean was beginning to despair that Sam was just going to leave him standing out in the cold until he froze to the spot(because he wasn’t leaving, goddamnit), the door opened slowly. Sam’s lips were set in a grim line and he didn’t look at Dean, just motioned him in with a sweep of his arm.

Sam shut the door and turned with arms crossed over his chest. “What do you want to say Dean?”

I miss you. I need you. I love you.

“I’m a dick.”

Sam snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Taking a deep breath, Dean continued. “I’ve been acting like a jerk, Sam. I know that. When I found you after making it out of Purgatory, and you told me you didn’t try to find me,” he paused before choking out, “it hurt.”

Sam had been staring at the floor, jaw tense, but when he heard those words his head snapped up to look at Dean. His eyes softened as he took in the naked emotion on his brother’s face. He’d known he’d hurt Dean, he just didn’t expect Dean to lay it out there. That wasn’t his usual style.

Dean plunged on, the words coming faster. “It hurt like hell, Sam. I couldn’t get my head around the fact that you’d just moved on.” He held up his hand as Sam started to protest. “Just let me say this. I know there was more to it and you don’t have to tell me. Not unless you want to. I’m not going to push, Sam, but if you can believe one thing I’ve said since I’ve been back it’s the fact that I realized where I belong. What I’m meant to do.” He took a step toward Sam before continuing. “I belong with you, Sam. By your side. All I could think about in Purgatory was getting back to you.”

Running his fingers through his hair, Sam sat down on the bed, sighing heavily. Looking up at Dean, he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Dean waited patiently, watching the emotions warring against each other on his brother’s face. Anger, resentment, disappointment. Hurt, confusion, love. He recognized that look because he’d seen it so many times in Sam’s eyes. That naked devotion that Dean craved to see from Sam. That he needed from Sam, because that was what Dean needed to feel right. To feel real. It was fleeting though. Just a whisper of a second before Sam’s eyes hardened again and all that glittered in them was a deep-seated fury. His eyes looked like the ocean on a particularly stormy day. 

“Okay, Dean. Let’s say that’s true. Let’s forget that you’ve defended Benny, aimed a gun at my head, told me that you can’t trust me and that Benny is a better brother to you than I’ve ever been.” Dean flinched as his hurtful words were thrown back in his face. “If I mean so much to you, how could you send that text?” Sam stood and his hands were clenched into fists at his side like he was restraining himself from taking a swing at his brother. He took a step closer to Dean. “Why?” One more step. “WHY?”

“Because I knew it would hurt you, Sammy, that’s why.”

Dean took two steps forward closing the distance between him and Sam. He looked at Sam, almost wishing that Sam would punch him. He had always hated knowing that he had caused his little brother pain. He would have taken a bullet to the heart in a minute if it had meant that he wouldn’t have to see Sam suffering because of him.

Sam looked taken aback. It was obviously not what he had expected Dean to say. 

“Sam,” Dean began, then softer, “Sammy. I’m sorry.”

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Sam turned his back like he couldn’t stand to look at Dean. Or didn’t want to.

“You knew what I would think. You knew because of Mom and Jess and Madison and everything,” he faltered before going on, voice shaking. “You knew that I would think that Amelia was being hurt because of me. You knew. And you didn’t care. You just wanted to make sure that I didn’t hurt your precious Benny.” He spat out Benny’s name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Congrats, Dean. You wanted to hurt me? You wanted me to feel betrayed? Well, mission accomplished.”

Dean looked at the broad expanse of Sam’s back. It still amazed him that his scrawny little brother had turned into this towering beast of a man. He longed to reach out and soothe the tension from Sam’s muscles. To hold him like he’d imagined he would when made it out of Purgatory. Before he’d come back and everything had spun out of control. 

“I’m sorry Sammy,” Dean repeated, “and you’re right. Because of your track record with relationships, I knew exactly what you would think. Part of me wanted you to hurt as bad as I was hurting. I never stopped to think that maybe you already were.”

Sam turned and sat heavily on the bed, head in his hands. When he spoke, his words were barely audible. “It doesn’t matter Dean.” Sam laughed bitterly and Dean’s heart ached at the sound. “We’ve always known how to hurt each other.”

We’ve always known how to love each other too, Sammy.

Dean knelt in front of Sam.

“Look, I know I fucked up and I don’t blame you if you want to bust my balls. I deserve it.” Dean took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. “I told you once that you were my weak spot. You still are. But you’re also my strength.” Sam looked up at that and Dean continued on hurriedly, the words spilling forth. “I fought to stay alive so that I could get back to you. The thought of seeing you again, Sam, kept me sane. I told you that I can’t do this without you. I can’t. I don’t want to. The truth is I need you Sammy. More than I could ever tell you.”

He laid a hand on Sam’s knee. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. I want to spend Christmas with my brother, Sam.” 

Sam said nothing. Just continued to look at Dean like he didn’t understand. Dean’s heart fell.

Squeezing Sam’s knee gently, Dean implored, “Sammy….please.”

“Christmas? You want to celebrate Christmas?” Sam looked around the shabby motel room. “Here?”

Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, Dean grinned. “No. I thought we’d go for some ritzier digs. Rufus’s cabin. We can take a couple of days off. Just you and me. What do you say?”

Sam paused, then nodded his assent.

Dean set about helping him pack up his few belongings. There wasn’t much because he had ran in a stolen car and the clothes on his back. 

“Dean, you look like you’re about to pass out,” Sam protested. “Why don’t we get some sleep and we can leave in the morning?”

“You can drive for a couple of hours and I’ll catch some shut eye. Then I’ll take over.” He didn’t add that he wanted to get Sam in the Impala and on the road before he could change his mind.

He wanted this Christmas to be special. 

Now he just needed Garth to come through.

~

Dean pulled the Impala into the yard and cut off the engine. He nudged Sam softly. “Wake up, Sammy. We’re here.” 

Sam had barely opened his eyes before Dean was jumping out of the Impala and on the porch. “Grab the bags!” he yelled back over his shoulder before slamming the door of the cabin behind him.

Shaking his head, Sam climbed out of the car, sighing happily as he was finally able to stretch his legs. The cold air was bracing and he was fully awake much quicker than he would of thought. He’d dreamed of Amelia as he had last seen her, sitting on the couch with her husband. Then it had shifted into Christmas Eve last year. He’d been kissing Amelia softly in front of the little Christmas tree they had bought together. He had opened his eyes and instead of Amelia it had been Dean. 

He could remember the last time he had kissed Dean. It had been the night before he had disappeared, taking Sam’s world with him.

Grabbing the bags out of the back he made his way to the front door of the little cabin. He opened it and his mouth dropped open in surprise.

Dean was standing in the middle of the room with the biggest grin he’d seen on his brother in…well, he couldn’t remember how long it had been since he had seen that smile on Dean’s face. It almost paled in comparison to the hundreds of twinkling lights that shone in the room.

Almost, but not quite.

Sam shut the door and dropped the bags on the floor. “Dean. What…I mean how did you…” Sam trailed off, for once at a loss for words.

Someone…elves?….had strung garland and little white lights along the fireplace mantel, above the doors and windows. There was a wreath with holly and a huge red bow on the far wall. There were even two red stockings hung side by side from the mantel but the piece de resistance was the towering Christmas tree placed to the left of the fireplace. It was wreathed in white lights and though it was bare of ornaments it was the most beautiful tree Sam had ever seen.

Dean watched Sam take it all in and then his face lit up with a smile. It was open and carefree and, for just a moment, it felt like the weight of the years dropped away.

“Merry Christmas, Sammy!”

“Dean, who did all of this?” Sam laughed delightedly and the sound was music to Dean’s ears.

The vise around Dean’s heart loosened just a little.

“It was Garth.”

Sam raised one eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I thought you said Garth did this.”

“What can I say? I can still turn on the charm when I want.” At Sam’s still skeptical expression he shrugged, “I promised him I would teach him how to hustle pool and get the girl.”

“Yeah, well, good luck with that.” Sam stood looking up at the tree. “I have to give the guy credit. He did a good job.”

Dean huffed, “Well, he did have directions you know. And a shopping list. We’ve got a full fridge too. Christmas dinner, snacks, eggnog, the works.” Dean paused dramatically, “And two kinds of pie. And…..” he reached behind the couch, pulling out two shopping bags, “actual, bona fide Christmas tree decorations.” He set them in front of the tree with a flourish.

He looked at Sam, not really knowing what to expect but what he saw made his heartbeat accelerate, his breath come a little faster. Sam was gazing at him with soft eyes and an expression that made everything he’d had to go through to pull off the surprise worth every penny and every promise.

Clearing his throat, Dean made a big show of taking the boxes of ornaments out of the bag. “Why don’t you go whip up some of that famous eggnog of yours and we’ll get to decorating.” Dean smiled up at Sam. “See, Sammy. We can do normal. Just you and me, right?”

Sam looked at the floor, the muscles in his jaw tensing. Uh oh, did I say something wrong? Dean wondered. He had his answer in seconds though, when Sam strode to him and flung his arms around him. He hugged Dean tight, burying his face in Dean’s neck. Dean answered in kind, wrapping his arms around Sam’s body and pressing even closer. They stood like that for a moment, just savoring the feel of the other, enjoying each other’s nearness. And before they separated, Dean could have sworn he felt Sam press his lips in the barest hint of a kiss against his neck.

“I’ll get the eggnog,” Sam said and walked to the fridge, leaving Dean looking at him, confused. Had it been wishful thinking or had Sam kissed him? Dammit, Sam was as hard as ever to figure out.

There was wood and kindling already laid in the fireplace and it took just a touch of match to set the dry wood aflame. Dean turned back to the decorations, not really seeing them. Instead, he saw Sam’s eyes when he’d told him that Benny was more of a brother to him than Sam had been. When he had told Sam that Benny have never betrayed him, the unspoken meaning being that Sam had let him down over and over. Words designed to hurt, to cut Sam to the core. 

Sam’s eyes just now, though, held none of that hurt or disappointment in them. He’d seen nothing but warmth, happiness.

Forgiveness? 

He’d obviously been standing there engrossed in his thoughts longer that he realized, because Sam brought eggnog (Dean sucked in a breath at the first sip, “Damn, Sammy. That’s good.”) and sandwiches he’d made. Dean didn’t realize how hungry he was until he took the first bite of the monstrous ham and cheese sandwich Sam handed him.

They opened up the boxes of colorful ornaments and began placing them on the tree. Sam stood back looking at all the options before carefully choosing and placing his ornaments while Dean placed his wherever his eye landed when he looked up at the tree. When they talked it was about the past. Holidays spent in motel rooms, sometimes with Dad and sometimes just the two of them. Sam kept refilling their glasses and the more they drank, the easier the words flowed.

Finally, they hung the last ornament and stood back to admire their handiwork. 

“Hey, Dean, we don’t have a topper.”

Dean thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers. “I’ll be right back.”

From a spot on the couch, Sam watched in amusement as Dean raced around gathering several items before he sat down in front of the tree. He took a piece of cardboard he’d torn from an old box he’d found in the kitchen and drew a pentagram. Using a penknife he cut it out and then tore off a piece of aluminum foil wrapping it around the design. He held up a perfect silver star for Sam’s inspection. 

“One more thing.” Dean pulled out an oversized paper clip and fixed it to one side then bent it so it could fit over the top of the tree.

He held it out to Sam. “You want to do the honors, Sasquatch?”

Sam grinned and placed the star on top of the tree. 

“Perfect,” they declared together.

Sam poured the last of the eggnog into their glasses and they sat together on the couch surveying their efforts.

Dean took a sip, licking a stray drop from the corner of his mouth. “You know, I’ve made one of those stars before. You probably don’t remember.”

“You did? When?”

“I guess you were three. We were staying in some fleabag because Dad was working a job. We were supposed to go to Bobby’s for Christmas. I remember Bobby gave Dad hell for not bringing us.” Dean smiled fondly, remembering Bobby telling John ‘you’d better give those boys a proper Christmas.’ “Dad brought home this tiny little Christmas tree on Christmas Eve. It had one string of lights and no ornaments so I helped you cut pictures out of magazines and we taped them to the tree. And I made a tinfoil star for the top.” 

“I wish I could remember.” Sam gazed at his brother warmly. “You’ve taken care of me my whole life, Dean, and you’ve always put me first. I couldn’t ask for any more than you’ve given me.” He looked away, but not before Dean saw Sam’s eyes shining a little too brightly.

Dean wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to reach out to Sam, touch him. Smooth away the worry and the hurt. The truth was he was afraid of pushing Sam further away. He’d always been afraid of that very thing so he’d let Sam take the lead most of the time in their relationship. And he was pretty sure that any definition of a normal life didn’t include any type of intimate relationship with his older brother.

So, as was typical, Dean avoided the subject.

“I’m going to hit the shower, dude. I was driving all day yesterday and last night and well, you know.” Wow. That was smooth, Dean thought.

Sam just nodded, eyes still fixed on the foil star atop the tree.

Dean came out of the steamy bathroom toweling his hair. He’d pulled on a clean t-shirt and a pair of old sweats. He dropped the towel and the sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.

Sam had been busy while he’d been showering. He’d built a makeshift bed in front of the fireplace with the bedding and pillows from the little cot. It would be a warm and cozy place to spend the night. The snow had continued to fall and the wind was howling around the cabin but in front of the fireplace it would be perfect.

Not that Dean was cold right now. If the bed in front of the fireplace and its implications wasn’t enough to warm Dean’s blood then the sight of Sam most definitely was.

He’d stripped down to nothing but his jeans, slung low on his hips. He stood in front of the fire, hands braced on the mantle, staring into the flames. He gripped the mantle tightly and every muscle stood out in stark relief. His hair looked like burnished silk and Dean knew exactly how soft it would feel around his fingers. The light played along his body lovingly, highlighting his cheekbones, the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. Dean imagined stroking those long lines, feeling the combination of hard and soft that he had always loved about his brother’s body. Sam looked like a bronze statue carved by one of the old masters.

Dean tried to speak but his mouth was dry. He tried again and he could only utter one word. The word that summed up all that really mattered to him in the world.

“Sammy?” 

Continuing to gaze into the flames, Sam began to speak so softly that Dean had to move closer so that he could understand. “I thought about you every day that you were gone, Dean. Every day. I know I can’t begin to understand what Purgatory was like and I don’t think I can make you understand what it was like to lose you again. To watch you disappear and have no idea where to even begin to look. To not know if you were dead or alive. To know that there was no one, no one, who would care if I was alive or dead.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “All I could think of was fixing the Impala. Because that’s what you would do. You were right, of course, I should have found Kevin. Protected him.”

“Sammy, it’s okay. I understand. You just….”

“It’s not okay,” Sam interrupted. “I should have helped Kevin and I should have looked for you. I just didn’t know where to begin. I didn’t know and I couldn’t think. And then I just decided to drive and I hit that poor dog. And met Amelia.” Sam sighed and laughed shortly. “I know I owe Benny for getting you out of Purgatory. And you owe Amelia, Dean. I’m here because of her.”

Dean didn’t like the sound of that. It sounded like there was a hidden meaning in Sam’s words. Things that Dean didn’t even want to contemplate. “Sam, what do you mean?”

Sam went on as if Dean hadn’t spoken. “Sometimes I would be kissing her or I would be in bed with her and I would close my eyes and pretend it was you. I didn’t feel guilty, though, because I think that sometimes she would close her eyes and pretend I was her husband.”

He finally turned to look at Dean and Dean felt as if all the oxygen had left the room because it was all over Sam’s face. The want, the need, the love…everything was still there as if they hadn’t been separated for a year and all the bitter words between them had never been spoken.

“I will never feel about anyone the way I feel about you, Dean. No one can ever make me feel the way you do. No one will ever take your place. We always will find our way back to each other. Others come and go but, like you said, we’re each other’s weak spot and each other’s strength.”

Sam’s hand went to the buttons of his jeans and then they were sliding to the floor. He wore nothing underneath and Dean gasped at the sight of Sam naked and the visible proof of his need for Dean revealed. They moved toward each other without realizing until they were pressed against each other. Sam’s hands came up to cup Dean’s face lightly, his thumbs sliding along his cheekbones, the line of his jaw, his full bottom lip.

Leaning in until his lips hovered just above Dean’s, Sam whispered, “Do you still want me, Dean? Tell me.”

“Sammy, I never stopped wanting you.” Whatever else Dean was going to say was forgotten as Sam pressed his lips to his brother’s. It was a tender kiss, almost chaste, and, for a moment, it was enough. Just the touch of Sam’s lips on his, soft and gentle, then Sam pressed his body against Dean’s and the kiss slid into something else. Their lips slanted across each others, mouths devouring the taste and feel they had missed for so long. Sam slid his tongue along Dean’s bottom lip, then licked into his open mouth, exploring and sliding against Dean’s. Sam pressed his hips into Dean and their cocks slid against each other, both achingly hard. 

Hooking his fingers in the hem of Dean’s shirt, Sam pulled it over Dean’s head, flinging it away. They shifted against each other, skin on skin, reveling in the feel after going so long without it. They were like addicts who couldn’t get enough. Dean shoved his sweatpants down, kicking them off and then they were on the bed Sam had fixed for them.

Dean pulled back, sitting on his haunches gazing at his little brother’s body. Sam’s lips were swollen from his kisses and his tongue flicked out to lick them. His eyes were lidded and Dean knew that look. He’d thought Sam would never look at him again that way. Sam had never been shy with Dean when they were in bed. He let Dean see everything that was in his heart, everything that he wanted, everything that he needed.

“Dean, please,” he whispered.

“So beautiful, Sammy,” Dean murmured, pressing down into Sam again. They shared long, deep kisses, tongues moving in a slow, languid dance. They were rediscovering each other’s bodies, a hand caressing the soft flesh on the inside of a thigh, a nip to the soft flesh underneath the jaw, soft kisses across the chest ending in a mouth teasing a nipple into hardness. Dean licked a stripe up the long column of Sam’s throat while his hips ground out a rhythm against Sam, their cocks moving against one another with the sweetest friction.

They rolled and Sam lay atop his brother, his hips still rocking against Dean. Sam moaned as Dean threaded his fingers in his hair, pulling Sam’s lips to his again. Working a hand between their bodies, Sam wrapped his long fingers around both their cocks, stroking them together, smearing pre-come across the tips and down the length. Dean continued to thrust against him and the combination had Sam so close. He was trembling with the effort to not come, to wait for Dean. Breaking the kiss, Dean wound his hands in Sam’s hair and groaned, “Sam….Sammy. Gonna come.” And then he was spurting, hot and wet, over Sam’s hand and that was it for Sam. Watching Dean shake and come apart had his own orgasm ripping through him, pumping against Dean and slamming his lips over Dean’s to swallow their cries of pleasure.

When Sam’s senses returned, he was laying with his head on Dean’s heaving chest. He kissed one nipple and then the other, smiling as Dean shivered in response. He grabbed his discarded t-shirt and wiped them clean before rearranging the covers over the both of them.

He lay with his head on Dean’s shoulder, one leg draped across Dean’s thighs and an arm slung across his stomach. Dean’s arms came around him and he rubbed Sam’s arm lightly.

“You okay, Sammy?”

Sam hugged Dean even closer. “Yeah, I am. Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Merry Christmas, Sammy.”

They lay together, holding one another until Dean felt the change in Sam’s breathing and knew he had drifted off to sleep. He brushed back sweaty strands from Sam’s forehead and kissed him lightly on top of his head. He looked up at the Christmas tree with its twinkling lights and foil star and sighed.

Finally, he was home.


	3. Let Your Heart Be Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A coda fic to "A Very Supernatural Christmas".

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,  
Let your heart be light.  
From now on our troubles will be out of sight.

Sam looked at Dean, the words catching in his throat. There was so much he wanted to say. Too much.

I hate you for making this deal. For leaving me alone.

I love you for looking out for me. For protecting me. No matter what it costs you.

So, instead, he took a deep breath.

“You wanna watch the game?”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. He’d seen the emotions warring in Sam’s eyes. The need to express them countered by the need to give this moment to Dean free of sadness. Free of the impending loss that was rushing upon them like a juggernaut.

Because if Sam broke down, Dean didn’t think he would be far behind.

Sam turned on the TV and they settled in to watch the game. There was plenty of Sammy’s special eggnog and while they watched, they talked about inconsequential things, if they talked at all. Dean couldn’t remember the last time they had watched football together. Of course, it didn‘t matter what exactly they were doing. This was about pretending that they were just two brothers on Christmas Eve spending time together. It wasn’t like one of them was going to be dead in a year.

Except, one of them was and the other would be dead in all the ways that counted.

So, they drank eggnog and watched the game and watched each other. Soon, they were just watching each other because nothing else really mattered. Not right now. The only magic that would infuse this Christmas would be perpetuated solely by the Winchester brothers. Santa wasn’t going to be able to bring them their wish, which for Sam would be to have Dean free of his demon deal , and for Dean, to give Sam a normal, healthy life. Well, Dean was able to give Sam his life, but it would never be normal.

Sam drained the rest of his eggnog and went to close the curtains. The snow was coming down harder now and the night was dark and cold. Dean turned off the Tv and the room was now lit solely by the lights shining on the little Christmas tree. Dean watched his brother make his way back to him. Sam toed off his boots and Dean did the same while Sam stood by the little loveseat looking down at his brother with so much love it took Dean’s breath away.

This was all Dean needed. This was his Christmas and birthday present, forever and always, standing right in front of him. His baby brother, alive and healthy, and gazing at Dean like he was his whole world.

Sam kneeled down and planted his arms on either side of Dean before lowering his lips to Dean’s in a soft, chaste kiss. It wasn’t long before the kisses turned deep and wet. Mouths slanting across each others, lips parting to drink in the taste that was brother and safe and home. The little loveseat wasn’t very long or wide but they made it work somehow. Their fingers fumbled with buttons and zippers, their own and each other’s, until they were naked, bare flesh pressing together, hands roaming to feel muscles moving, stroking along a hipbone, clasping at a bicep. Meanwhile, their lips never ceased to move against the other’s as if they couldn’t get enough.

They thrust their hips , hard cocks sliding together, seeking the friction they both so badly craved. Sam tore his lips away from Dean’s and slid his hand between their bodies, wrapping his long fingers around them, jacking them slowly as their hips continued their erratic rhythm.

Sam’s eyes locked with Dean’s and their breath came in harsh gasps. Sam bit at his bottom lip as his grip tightened and his strokes sped up. His eyes still held Dean’s and they didn’t need words to say anything. What each read in the depth of the other’s eyes said everything they would ever need to know.

They came together, whispering each other’s name like the most reverent of prayers.

Sam collapsed on top of Dean, mouthing sloppy kisses against his neck. Dean stroked Sams back with his fingertips, tracing the outline of the muscles as Sam tried to catch his breath. After a moment, Dean shifted uncomfortably.

“Dude, I can’t breathe.” Dean tried to push Sam off to no avail. Sam just continued his ravishment of Dean’s neck, adding little nips with his teeth that made Dean shiver. “Seriously, you’re sweaty and we’re sticky…”

Sam smiled against Dean’s throat. “So?”

Dean slapped Sam’s ass causing Sam to jump and bite hard at Dean’s throat. “Ow, Sammy!” Dean yelped and slapped at Sam again and Sam gave a throaty laugh. “How about a shower, Sasquatch?”

Giving Dean a lazy smile, Sam said, “You’re on.”

The shower was even smaller than the loveseat but that was okay with them. It just meant that their wet skin slid on one another with every twist and turn. They played like children, soaping one another and allowing their hands to roam in leisurely exploration of each other’s bodies. Laughter turned to breathy sighs which were silenced entirely when their mouths met again and again in long, languid kisses.

By the time they made it to the bed, they were both hard again and Sam used his lips and hands to worship his brother’s body. More than anything, this was his gift to Dean. To give Dean pleasure and most of all, to give Dean himself. For Dean to know that Sam wanted him in every way possible. Their love recognized no boundaries, no limitations.

He used his tongue and then his fingers to open Dean, causing Dean to whimper and moan and plead but Sam took his time. Dean was Sam’s religion, his body Sam’s temple and the sounds of pleasure his brother made were more beautiful than any choir of angels to Sam’s ears.

Finally, when Dean was lax and pliant and his pleas had turned into wordless murmurs, Sam entered him in one slow thrust. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut and his sighs sounded like “yes” and “love” and “Sam”. Sam set up a steady rhythm that he kept even as Dean clasped his ass urging him “Harder, Sammy, please.” Ignoring him, Sam just leaned forward, kissing Dean deep and hard, sucking on his tongue, biting Dean’s full bottom lip before soothing it with a swipe of his own tongue. Dean arched his back, meeting Sam thrust for thrust, his cock rubbing against the hard muscles of Sam’s abdomen.

Dean could feel his orgasm building and Sam finally gave in, fucking Dean deep and hard. Dean came with a low grunt, unable to even cry out Sam’s name, his fingers digging into Sam’s hips hard enough to leave marks that would blossom into bruises by morning. Sam came right after, chanting his brother’s name, “Dean, Dean, Dean.”

They held onto one another as they trembled through the aftershocks, exchanging soft and tender kisses. Neither wanted to break the contact, but finally, Sam pulled out and clambered off the bed. Dean shivered with the sudden loss of warmth. Sam came back with a washcloth for Dean and soon they were nestled in each other’s arms again.

“Uh..Dean?”

Dean was sated and happy and replied with a drowsy, “Mmmmm?”

Taking a deep breath, Sam went on. “Do you remember any Christmases from when you were little? You know, like before Mom died?”

Dean was silent for a long moment, so Sam said quickly, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s not that, I was just thinking. I remember snatches of things. I remember the most about the Christmas Mom was pregnant with you.”

Looking at Sam, Dean smiled. “I remember when she hung up the stockings, she hung up this tiny little stocking next to mine and I asked her who it was for and that’s when she and Dad told me that I was going to be a big brother.” Dean chuckled. “I asked them if Santa was going to bring a baby.”

Sam, laughing at the thought of a Dean that believed in Santa, hugged Dean tighter. “What did they tell you?”

“Well, they told me in about five months I would have a baby brother or sister.” Dean laced his fingers with Sam’s. “And you know the rest of the story.”

“What else do you remember? Was there a tree? Did she like to decorate?” Sam smiled thinking about it. “I always imagined that she would do the whole Ninja Mom thing, especially at Christmas.”

Dean laughed softly. “Yeah, she did, actually. We had a huge Christmas tree with all of these colored lights. I remember Dad bringing it home…..and cursing up a storm trying to string those lights.” Dean closed his eyes, smiling, the memories both happy and bittersweet. “Mom baked cookies and I helped decorate them. And Santa brought me a slot-car set.” He opened his eyes to find Sam smiling at him, eyes shining with affection.   
“Sorry, Sammy, that’s all I can remember.”

“I just wondered what it was like, you know, a Christmas with Mom and Dad.” Sam brought their clasped hands to his lips, kissing Dean’s knuckles softly. “I’m glad you had that. You deserve to have some happiness.”

Dean swallowed heavily. “Sammy, I would have given anything to give you just one Christmas with Mom and Dad.”

“I know, Dean. It’s okay. Really.” Sam propped up on one elbow so he could make sure that Dean was catching every word he was saying.“Somehow this screwed-up universe gave me you for a big brother. And you’ve been there for me my whole life. You’ve been my protector, my best friend, and….so much more.“ Sam paused, leaning down to brush his lips over Dean’s. “You’re the best gift I could ever wished for and I don’t feel cheated because I’ve had you.”

Dean reached put one hand behind Sam’s head and pulled him down for a long, thorough kiss that left no doubt that Dean felt the same about his little brother. Even if he couldn’t express it in words the way Sam did.

Of course, Sam had no doubt about how his brother felt about him. Hadn’t he sold his soul for him?

Sam pulled away from the kiss and lay back, swiping one hand across suspiciously shiny eyes. “So, what do you say we sleep in tomorrow morning? Also, I happen to know that the little diner across the street is serving Christmas dinner with all the trimmings.”

“Will their be pie?”, Dean interrupted hopefully.

“Oh, yeah”, Sam laughed, “there’ll be pie and turkey and mashed potatoes. We stuff ourselves and then come back here, find some bad TV and spend the day in the bed.”

“Sammy, I think you may have just described the perfect Christmas.”

They kissed again, slow and sweet, and then curled against one another. It wasn’t long before they were both asleep, bathed in the glow of Sam’s little Christmas tree.

Any denizens of Ypsilanti, Michigan who happened to venture out into the snow storm that Christmas Eve and look skyward saw a curious sight. The snow continued to fall, wet and heavy, but through the snow lights appeared. It was as if the snow clouds parted to allow the stars to shine through over one run-down motel on the outskirts of town.

One thing that Mary had told Dean was true. Angels were watching over them. Whether for good or bad, they were there. Drawn to the Winchester brothers because of who they were and where their destiny would take them.

On that Christmas Eve, they were drawn there by the love that radiated from Sam and Dean. A love as pure as the snow that fell, blanketing the little town and making even the worst of it seem pure and pristine.

The depth of the emotion that bound Sam to Dean and Dean to Sam, was as profound as it was beautiful.

They were brothers, lovers, soulmates.

And wasn’t love what Christmas was all about?


	4. Another Auld Lang Syne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Year's Eve following "A Very Supernatural Christmas".

Notes:I am fascinated with what was going through Sam’s head during Season 3 and the time while Dean was in Hell. After I wrote my coda fic to AVSC, this kind of crept up on me.Sorry it’s late. I hope ya’ll like it.

Dean was just shrugging into his jacket when the motel room door opened. A blast of cold air and swirling snow accompanied his brother inside.

“Where in the hell have you been, Sam?” Dean threw his jacket on the nearest chair. “I was just getting ready to look for you!”

Sam’s hair was wet with melting snow and his cheeks were flushed a bright pink from the cold. He was shivering and his voice shook as he answered tiredly. 

“I was just taking a walk, Dean.”

“In a goddamn blizzard?” Dean snatched a towel out of the bathroom and threw it at his brother. “What were you thinking?”

Sam sat down heavily on one of the double beds and let the towel dangle between his legs. His eyes were on the threadbare carpet as he tried to avoid his brother’s gaze. “I told you I needed to get out of here for a while. I went across the street to that bar.”

Dean snorted. “We’ve got plenty of booze right here, Sam. Or were you looking for someone else to spend the evening with?”

He instantly regretted his sharp words when Sam looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Fuck you, Dean.” Then, louder, “FUCK YOU!!”

Stepping forward, Dean placed a hand on his little brother’s shoulder.“Hey, Sammy, come on.”

Sam shook Dean’s hand away. “No. You know what’s wrong but you don’t want to talk about it! Everybody in that bar was celebrating and why shouldn’t they be?” Sam laughed bitterly. “It’s New Year’s Eve." 

Dean tried again to comfort his brother but Sam would have none of it. Not yet.

"I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I need to. I’m sorry, Dean.” Sam looked at his brother as the tears began to fall unheeded and the words tumbled from his lips.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that this is happening. I’m sorry I can’t seem to find a way to save you. I’m sorry I’m not as strong as you.” He clutched at Dean’s shirt with both hands and Dean could smell the liquor on his breath. “How am I going to do it? We’ve only got 5 months now.”

Dean led Sam to the bed and they sat down together. “You are strong…stronger than me. Sam, you’ll be able to go on without me.”

“How can you say that, Dean?” The tears were falling harder now, but Sam didn’t seem to notice. “Let me ask you something, Dean. What did you feel when I died in your arms? What did you feel when you had to look at my dead body lying there?”

“Sammy,” Dean whispered in a voice full of regret and sorrow.

Sam laid his shaking hands tenderly on either side of his brother’s face and said softly, “Don’t you understand that I will feel the same pain you felt? And I’ll know you’re dead and in hell because of me.”

Sam’s shivering became more pronounced and Dean stood and began to help him out of his wet clothing.

“Come on, Sammy. Let me take care of you.”

He led Sam, unprotesting, to the shower where he undressed them both. Sam’s teeth were chattering by the time they stepped under the warm spray. Sam was pliant under his hands as he manuevered them around in the small space. Eyes closed, Sam kept murmuring, “Sorry, Dean. I’m sorry." 

Dean held Sam under the warm water, stroking Sam’s back tenderly as Sam’s arms grasped him desperately. Sam’s litany continued and Dean finally whispered, "Stop it, Sam.” When he continued, Dean asked, “How much did you have to drink anyway?”

Sam muttered thickly, “Don’t remember.”

Shaking his head, Dean helped Sam out of the shower, toweling them both dry. He lead Sam to the bed and they lay down under the blankets, Dean pulling Sam’s head to his shoulder and holding him close. Sam still shivered and Dean could feel the tears that still fell from his brother’s eyes wetting his chest.

“Shhh, Sammy. Come on, it’s going to be okay.” Dean stroked Sam’s arms, then the thick wet strands of hair that clung to his cheeks. “It’s gonna be okay, Sammy.”

This was a scene that had occurred over and over throughout their childhood. Sam scared because Dad had come in from a hunt, hurt and bloodied or Dad had come in from the nearest dive, drunk and blustering. John, medicated by painkillers or cheap liquor, would fall asleep. Dean would whisper to Sam, “Don’t cry, Sammy. It’ll be okay. Hush now, you don’t want to wake up Dad.” So Sam had learned to cry silently in his big brother’s arms.

Finally, Sam’s shivering stopped and he relaxed. He was asleep and not even the booming sound of fireworks welcoming the new year at midnight woke him.

Dean sighed, and listening to the even breathing of his little brother, slept.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the motel door room closing woke Dean. He sat up, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from his eyes, when he caught a whiff of heaven: strong coffee and bacon.

Sam placed a grease-stained paper bag and a large styrofoam cup on the bedside table. 

“One cup of coffee and one double bacon, egg and cheese sandwich.” Sam paused to take a sip from his own cup of coffee. “And a slice of warm apple pie.”

“Wow. I know I’ve said it before but you are the best brother ever.” Dean sipped his coffee appreciatively and eyed Sam. “So, how are you feeling?”

Shrugging, Sam sat down on the bed next to Dean. “I’ve got a little bit of a headache but not too bad, considering.” He placed his coffee on the table and took a deep breath. “Dean, I’m sorry.”

“Sammy, don’t…”

“I told myself I wouldn’t do that last night”, Sam interrupted. “I wanted to have this great New Year’s Eve to go right along with Christmas and I fucked it up.”

“It’s okay, Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “No, it isn’t, but I’m going to make it up to you.” He cupped Dean’s cheek in one of his large hands, and leaning forward brushed his lips over Dean’s. “I’m going to find a way to save you. I am. I’m promising you right here and now that I am not going to let you go to Hell. I am not going to lose you.”

He kissed Dean deeper, then whispered, “ I promise.”

Looking into his brother’s eyes, so earnest and filled with so much love, Dean felt something he hadn’t felt in a long while.

Hope.


	5. Untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was based on a 2-word prompt: Wincest, Winter

It was the absence of warmth that brought him to full wakefulness. He was used to the feel of Sam’s long limbs wrapped around him. The scent of Sam’s hair, his back against Sam’s hard chest, Sam’s thigh between his legs. It was like being cocooned in security and safety and it was one of the best feelings in Dean’s world.

The deserted cabin was cold. A late March snow storm had forced them to find shelter and they had come upon this little cottage in the middle of nowhere late last night. They had trudged inside and after finding enough kindling and wood had started a fire. They had made a pallet with 2 fluffy king-size bedspreads(duvets Sam had corrected as Dean rolled his eyes)from the bedrooms and, exhausted, let their clothes fall to the floor where they stood. They crawled into the makeshift bed and Sam had pulled Dean against him, kissed him softly on his neck and whispered, “Go to sleep." 

Now, Dean shook his head and yawned trying to clear away the last vestiges of sleep. The fire had died leaving only glowing embers. Wan morning light filtered in through the windows but what Dean noticed was the silence. He knew Sam had to be here. There was nowhere to go for breakfast. They were literally in the middle of a forest. Dean stood and pulled on his jeans and, grabbing a sweatshirt from his duffel and pulling it over his head, started toward the front windows but a small sound stopped him. It came from the back of the little cabin and he made his way cautiously to the door that opened onto the small deck. Looking out the window he saw that it was still snowing. They were big, heavy flakes that probably meant another night here. Movement to his right caught his eye and he adjusted his line of sight. He’d found Sam.

He was crouched down, arm extended, a small piece of bread held between his long fingers. Just beyond his reach was a brilliant red cardinal, warily surveying the giant in front of him. Sam was perfectly still, waiting for the bird to realize that he meant him no harm. Dean held his breath and, not for the first time in his life, wished he owned a camera. The scene was beautiful. Nothing but white as far as the eye could see and the only color was his brother’s dark hair, the green of his hoodie, the blue of his jeans and the red blush of Sam’s cheeks that almost matched the brilliant red of the small bird before him. The cardinal cocked his head to the side once more and, deciding this was a gentle giant, plucked the small bread crumb from Sam’s fingers before taking flight. Sam stood, a smile as brilliant as the sun lighting his face, and in that moment saw Dean looking at him. His smile grew even wider as Dean opened the door and stepped outside into the frigid air.

"Did you see it, Dean?” Sam asked quietly. “It took it right from my hand!”

“Yeah, Sammy. I guess they’re used to Sasquatch in these woods.” Sam laughed delightedly and Dean grinned back, happy because Sam was happy. There were so few moment like this. So few moments to just enjoy something as simple as hand feeding a bird. Or time to enjoy just being together.

Sam shook the snow from his dark hair and said , “I think we have enough food for a couple of days.” He ducked his head and looked at Dean shyly. “Do you think the Apocalypse can wait a couple of hours? Maybe we could stay here and, you know, just spend some time together.”

Dean looked at his brother who watching him with a hopeful expression. They could both use a little down time. They were exhausted and the way things were going, it looked like their time together was limited. Dean pushed the thought away. He couldn’t think about that right now. He wouldn’t.

Dean pursed his lips and squinted his eyes against the rising sun. “I’m pretty sure our problems will still be here in 48 hours. In fact, I’m sure of it. I’m freezing my ass off. Let’s get inside.”

20 minutes later and neither one of them was cold anymore. They made their own heat. The apocalypse and Lucifer and Michael, all the world’s problems faded away as they lost themselves in each other. 

2 months later Sam was in Hell and Dean thought back to those stolen hours and the smile that had lit Sam’s face when a small creature had trusted him. Maybe God’s eye was on the sparrow but it sure as fuck wasn’t on Sam. But Dean’s was. Apple-pie life my ass. There was no life without Sam.

“Hold on Sammy. I’m coming. Somehow, I’ll find a way.”


End file.
